


Things Stored Away

by casual_distance



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sex Pollen, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 00:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4039999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean knows what he can and can’t do, what he can and can’t have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Stored Away

Dean stared down at the edge of the table, eyes tracing the wrinkled ridge of the laminate where it had peeled up and was curling with water damage. Cas sat across from him, folded over, elbows resting on his knees, hands clenched together. 

Cas shifted, and Dean couldn’t help looking up. When Cas’s eyes met his, Dean found himself overwhelmed with the sense memory of the press of Cas’s lips against his, the catch of Cas’s stubble across his cheeks and chin, the weight of his body between Dean’s legs, the heat of him, the sounds of him, the smell of him.

Dean’s breath caught in his chest and he licked his lips. Cas looked down to watch. His eyes darkened; his lips parted.

Dean twisted in his seat away from Cas and ran a hand over his face. He heard Cas shift again, heard the suck in of his breath as he prepared to speak. Dean pressed his hand against his eyes as he held up the other.

“Cas, man, I can’t.”

There was a long moment of silence, then the familiar rustle of wings. Dean dropped his hands and sighed, head falling back against the wall as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

* * *

Sam gave him a narrow-eyed look when Dean would only grunt in response to his questions about the case, but he let it go, leaving Dean to drown his memories in alcohol. 

It worked, for a time, but as much as he drank, Dean couldn’t stop the dreams.

He couldn’t stop reliving the moment when he blinked over at Castiel, his eyes watering from the dust of children’s bones or whatever nasty ass bullshit the witch had blown into his face. Cas had looked back at him, his own eyes red-rimmed and wide. The blue, that incredible, almost luminescent blue had darkened as Castiel had taken in Dean’s hungry expression. 

Dean remembered the feel of heat as it took root low in his belly and spread out through his limbs. He remembered the way his heart pounded, the way his chest had heaved, the desperate ache in his cock. 

Dean remembered the way Cas's gaze had run over his body- that first slow, hesitant step toward Dean which had given away to frantic touching and the desperate fight to get naked.

Dean remembered the press of Cas’s cock into his body, how he’d given in to those thoughts that seemed as if they were always there, how he’d given in to _Cas_. He’d wrapped himself around Cas and held on, dug his heels into Cas’s back, bit into Cas’s neck, and he’d loved every. Fucking. Second of it.

But the worst- the absolute worst- was remembering Cas’s gentleness. Even as Cas had thrust into him quick and desperate, hard enough that Dean felt it for days afterwards, Cas had wrapped his arms around Dean. He’d pressed his palm to Dean’s cheek, curled his fingers against Dean’s neck, slid his thumb over Dean’s cheek bone. He’d whispered Dean’s name low, longing, grateful. Like a fucking prayer, he’d whispered Dean’s name into his ear.

Dean woke every night to the sound of his own name spoken in that hungry voice, spoken with the sound of desperation, of desire, of love. He woke and he sat in bed, pressing his face into his hands as he ignored the hardness of his body and the way he trembled and wondered what he’d done to earn the sound of such devotion.

When Sam came to him with a new case, a town riddled with demon sign, Dean jumped at the chance to take on a fight that would wear him out, would drag him into a dreamless exhaustion and keep him from thinking about what he couldn’t have, what he couldn’t want.

* * *

When Dean came to, he found himself tied to a pipe, hands twisted painfully behind his back. His vision swam and his ears rang. Blood dripped down into his eyes. One leg was turned in an unnatural direction and scarily numb. Everything hurt. He could hear Sam’s harsh breathing behind him, but attempting to turn caused pain to shoot through his body, so Dean could only listen to him breathe. 

Panic settled in slowly as Dean realized that Sam wasn’t going to wake soon. Across the room a group of witches were gathered, garbed in oversized robes that flared dramatically at each turn of their bodies. A demon leaned up against the wall, watching them work as they gathered ingredients and set up an altar with a bowl in the center. As they began dropping ingredients into the bowl, voices raised in chanting, the demon turned her attention to Dean. When she noticed he was awake and staring, she sidled over to crouch down next to him and tap a finger against his cheek.

“Look at you,” she purred. “Awake at last. Oh, we have such plans for you.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Dean slurred, tipping his head away from her probing hand, the room spinning slightly with the movement.

She laughed and gripped his chin, wrenching his head back to force him to stare at her, causing pain to shoot down his neck and light to throb behind his eyes. 

“You Winchesters have been nothing but trouble, and I fully intend to put a rest to that. I have plans and no intentions to let you interfere.” She released him and turned her back to him, rising. She headed back to the group just as a plume of black smoke boiled up from the bowl, arcing through the air and sliding into the body of a patiently waiting witch.

As a second and third plume poured forth Dean realized he was in trouble. There were four more witches waiting to be taken over by demons. Sam was still unconscious, and only the steadiness of his breathing kept Dean from blind panic. Instead Dean swallowed, took a breath, and prayed.

“Cas, we need some help here. Now.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of chanting across the room- then Cas was there, the tan of his coat a stark contrast amongst the dried-blood-red darkness of the witches’ robes. Dean closed his eyes before Cas could say anything, and the flare of his grace burnt through the demons and through the room. 

Dean opened his eyes to find Cas striding toward them, the witches’ bodies forgotten on the floor. He passed Dean, and Dean could hear him shift Sam around. The ropes binding him loosened and fell away. Dean pulled his arms around in front of him, rubbing at his wrists and rolling his shoulders as he turned to watch Cas lay Sam down on the ground next to Dean.

“I’ve healed his wounds. He will wake shortly.”

Cas stood and knelt before Dean, next to his leg. He twisted it back into place- which _gross_ \- causing Dean to gag slightly from the pain.

Cas looked up at him, studying Dean for a moment before he reached out and pressed his hand to Dean’s face. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. Like that night, Cas fit his palm to Dean’s cheek, curled his fingers warmly around Dean’s neck, touched his thumb to Dean’s face.

Dean’s eyes slipped shut as the warm tingle of Cas’s grace flowed through his body, chasing away pain as it healed. He turned his face into Cas’s hand without meaning to, and then Cas was gently pushing his head up and pressing his lips to Dean’s.

He kissed Dean softly, with the kind of warmth and sweetness that never failed to make Dean tremble. Cas pulled away and carded his fingers through Dean’s hair before he sat back. Dean stared at him, wide eyed and desperate, that unreasonable fear pounding through his body again.

Cas touched his cheek. “I understand, Dean,” he said, and Dean knew he did. He always did.

“I will be here when you are ready.”

Dean wanted to tell Cas that he didn’t want that, that he wasn’t ever going to be ready, that there was nothing for him to be ready for, but Cas was gone before Dean could even open his mouth. Sam groaned next to him, rolling over to open his eyes and squint at Dean, already asking what had happened. They helped each other to their feet, and Dean told him about the demon and the witches while they destroyed what remained of the altar and salted and burned the bodies left behind.

Dean woke again that night hearing Cas’s voice say his name, fear pounding through his veins- but this time there was also Cas’s voice saying _I will be here_ and Dean felt the fear recede a little, felt the pounding of his heart slow. He heard Cas’s voice again and he let himself believe, just for a moment, that it was true.

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://casualstories.tumblr.com/post/120276991493/things-stored-away-mildly-nsfw)


End file.
